triple chocolate
by tombombadillo
Summary: it's hard to have an ice cream date when you live with a pug.


**For my two puggy princess Mary and Vallie. OH DEER GOD I AM SORRY HOW DO YOU WRITE SMUT IDK.**

**Um yes, so """"""""""""ice cream date"""""""""""""""""" with Castle and Beckett and a pug. Could be read as a standalone, basically Castle and Beckett have a pug called Latte BECAUSE COFFEE**

**Disclaimer: I've been looking at Disney International Programmes AND I'M NOT EVEN BACK IN COLLEGE YET?**

* * *

"Does this have any beneficial properties?" Castle asks, digging the spoon into the tub of triple chocolate ice cream.

"Other than I will have to drag you into the shower afterwards?" Kate grins. "No, not really."

Castle grins, catches a drip of ice cream with his fingers, follows it with a slow lick of his tongue, his eyes on hers. "I can work with that."

He tugs on her knee and sets the ice cream down in the same moment, and then sitting backwards as Kate swings her legs over his and pulls off her shirt. With the hand not holding onto the spoon of ice cream, he cups the back of her head and pulls her down to kiss her, his tongue flicking against the seam of her mouth. She gives him access easily, tugs her own hands through his hair. She hisses when Castle tips the spoon, the cold and now slightly melted ice cream pooling in the dip of her collarbone. Castle tugs on her hair, her head pulled away from his, slightly rough, just the way she likes it. He's lapping up the ice cream before she can even opens her eyes. His tongue is warm, a delicious counterpoint to the ice of the chocolate, she growls and reaches for the ice cream, dipping her finger in the carton and drawing a line down his neck. Castle shivers, and his hips jerk against hers when she catches it with her tongue.

"You taste good." She says, low and throaty.

He chuckles, moves his hands sliding up her back to undo her bra clasp. She sighs, her head tipping back as his hands feather over her breasts, up and down, over and over, making the breath catch in her chest. Castle reaches for the ice cream again, gets a spoonful of ice cream and promptly slides it into his mouth, his eyes on hers, hooded and dark. He holds the ice cream in his mouth for a few moments before swallowing. She almost pulls his hair out when he wraps his mouth around her nipple, swears harshly.

"Not in front of the kids, Beckett."

"Don't have kids." She gasps. "I'd definitely remember – _fuck, _Castle – I'd remember having kids."

"Latte. Watching under the table." He murmurs, forgoing the spoon and his finger, and just tipping the carton over her skin, straight across her chest.

"I'm not doing this in front of the dog." Kate growls, belying her words even as she speaks by tugging Castle towards her, his tongue already lapping at the valley between her breasts.

"Why, Kate? We're just eating ice cream. Wouldn't be the first time. There was that chocolate sundae last week in that café. She was there then. And movie night."

"Neither of those involved us eating it off each other."

"No eating here. Just licking. Completely different."

"Castle."

He flips her over, already tugging at her leggings. "If you close your eyes, you won't even know she's there."

"Don't want to close my eyes." Her back arches when he catches what is left of the ice cream on her chest. "Want to watch."

"I know you like to watch. Ignore Latte. She's happy under the table."

"If you're not going to move the dog, then you're going to have to take some of your clothes off." She tugs at the collar of his shirt and he obliges willingly, raises up on his knees so he can pull it off. He throws it, somewhere, pushes himself over her so he can kiss her again.

"You taste nice." Kate mumbles quietly.

He bites her lip gently. "You taste nicer." He nips at her jaw, her pulse point. "You taste like… chocolate, and sugar and coffee. And red wine. It's intoxicating."

Castle's got her tongue in her belly button. Has done for the past minute, replacing chocolate with chocolate, ignoring her pleas for him to move his head down – just _down –_ completely blind to her needs. And just on the tipping point – just when she's about to snap and use some of those "kick ass ninja" skills she has to get him on his back – he looks up at her. Fuck the man for knowing. That first night – barely made it to his bed – and it's like he knew her already. Knew just how to push her buttons (no pun intended), leave her hanging, send her soaring. If only he wouldn't act so damn smug about it. He knows what he's doing. He can feel the hard tension of her stomach muscles under his hands, trying so hard to keep still, can feel the flutter of her breath, the occasional uncontrollable jerk of her hips when he lets his hands just occasionally drift down the front of her underwear. Insufferable jerk.

"_Castle_" Kate hisses through clenched teeth, her knees pressing into his shoulders.

"Yeah, Kate?"

"Stop. Teasing."

"Not teasing. Eating."

"Castle." She moans, dragging out the last vowel, that way he likes, when he knows he's pushed her far enough and she's willing to beg and moan and plea with him, something Detective Kate Beckett would never, ever do.

He laughs, shifts backwards slightly, fingers hooking into the edges of her underwear. Kate lifts her hips, lets him pull them down and fling them – somewhere. And then Castle is picking up the tub of ice cream again – and, oh – oh, _oh –_

"_Fuck_, Castle." Her back arches away from the leather, her hips rising – whether to find his mouth or to just _move_ – she's not sure but _fuck, fuck_.

"Language, Kate." Castle warns, licking the crease of her thigh, catching the chocolate on his tongue. Kate growls, fed up, winds her hands in his hair and tugs. She cries out when Castle takes no time in pushing two fingers up into her – his skin cold against her skin – so cold – his tongue – warm, but Kate can still feel the underlying chill – circles her unerringly. It's not long – embarrassingly short, really – before she's clenching around his fingers, pushing herself down onto his hand, hips grinding and jerking against his knuckles.

She comes back to herself with the feel of a tongue on her middle, and she thinks it's Castle, wonders at the sheer patience of the man, but when she opens her eyes it's not. It's Latte. The smell of chocolate and her apparent lack of consciousness has called the pug out from under the table to investigate. Kate shoves the dog away with a hand, but Latte is insistent. Wants to get every single bit of chocolate that Castle failed to reach. It's Castle that removes her, one large hand underneath her stomach, lowers her to the floor. He's put the ice cream away, divested himself of any remaining clothes, and it doesn't take a lot for Kate to move so she can push him down lengthways on the sofa. The blue of his eyes is practically invisible, taking up by the deep, dark depths of his pupils, and Kate sees herself reflected in them as she straddles him, her nipples brushing against his chest tantalisingly, sending sparks of electricity shooting through her veins, dancing along his chest. Kate reaches down to wrap her hand around his base, warm and thick in her hand, gives him a few quick, hard strokes to make his eyes roll back. His hands grip her hips, tries to pull her down. She was going to tease him, get her own back, but the need is building in her veins and she just wants to ride him until her legs turn to jelly.

Her own breath catches as he pushes into her, slowly, eyes holding each other, neither of them wanting to look away. It's Castle who breaks first, his eyes slamming shut as she clenches around him. But, she doesn't move. Keeps on rhythmically squeezing her muscles around him. Kate knows he enjoys it, but she also knows that it's never enough. Just keeps him floating just below. He's swearing under his breath, muttered utterances of her name, and she leans down to bite his lip. He swears again, _loudly,_ can't control the jerk of his hips into hers, and that's it. Any ideas about teasing and drawing it out are gone from Kate's mind.

She rides him mercilessly, her hips circling, grinding, rising off of him and slamming back down, so fast, so hard, it's all Castle can do to hold onto her waist, her skin slippy with sweat.

"_Kate_, Kate, fuck. I'm – close, Kate." Castle raises one of his hands, winds it through her hair so he can tug her down to him, his mouth pressed against hers, tongue hot and wet and pushing itself into her mouth without much resistance. She loses whatever control she has in this position, and Castle drives into her unforgivingly, but his hand not in her hair slips lower, finds that bundle of swollen nerves and applies just the right amount of pressure.

She can't stop it now, can't the step the inevitable rise and fall, gasps against his mouth as lights pop behind her eyes, her limbs go heavy and her muscles clench around him, letting him follow her into oblivion.

* * *

She's aware Latte is licking her fingers, aware that she should probably give the dog her dinner, but Castle is warm (and still very naked) underneath her and she's having a hard time gathering up the energy to move. She thinks Castle might be asleep if the way his breathing is slow and measured, his eyes closed. But they can't sleep on the sofa. They really can't. She's hot and sweaty and covered in chocolate ice cream and not a small amount of dog slobber, and she really should have a bath. She would shower, but she doesn't think she has the energy to stand up for any longer then necessary.

"Castle…" she murmers, chin propped on his collarbone.

"Ngh, Kate. Off. Hurts."

"Good. We need to get up."

"No, no, stay here. Stay in bed."

She sits up, doesn't fail to notice the shiver that runs through his body. "You're sprawled – we're sprawled – naked and on a sofa. Come on, up." She swings her leg, over him, steps over Latte who's hopping and roving around her legs.

Castle groans, and rolls sideways, still believing that he's lying on a bed, lands on the floor with a loud thump. It seems, luckily, that the blankets and the cushions had all been pushed off previously, and they protect most of his important parts from any major injury.

He rolls back over with a groan, pushes Latte away, who seems to have forgotten that it was dinner time and is a lot more interested in the naked man on the floor. "Kate, I'm in pain."

"You're fine, Castle."

"No, no, definitely not. Need a hot nurse, stat."


End file.
